


Draco Malfoy Was Almost a Gryffindor

by onlykatelyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Ending, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Good Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts, M/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 19:56:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17946116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlykatelyn/pseuds/onlykatelyn
Summary: A short re-writing of canon from the perspective of Draco Malfoy.Draco never realized just how deep his feelings for Harry Potter ran until he was placed in a position to rebel against everything he’s ever known.





	Draco Malfoy Was Almost a Gryffindor

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: brief mention of suicidal thoughts. Please be safe. ❤️

When he was rejected by Potter on the train, he was hurt. Baffled. Lost. His father had always told him to stay in good standing with those who held power, and, wow, if he hadn’t already fucked that up.

When the sorting hat touched his head, a thousand thoughts were buzzing through Draco’s mind. His father wanted him to carry on the family tradition of being a true Slytherin. The house of blood supremacy. The house of power. He’d never really understood why, but he knew that his father must be right. His father was his hero, when had he ever been wrong?

When the Hat suggested he’d do great things in Gryffindor, Draco panicked. He couldn’t- wouldn’t- be a lion. Not when he was born into a family of snakes. He begged the hat for stripes of green and silver. And- after what appeared from the outside to be a quick decision- he was sorted so. With a sigh of relief, he headed toward his side of the Great Hall. His father would be proud.

When Potter was sorted into Gryffindor, something in Draco’s heart sunk. He’d almost been sorted with him. Why did it bother him that they were now constituted rivals? He swallowed his thoughts and focused on upholding the family name.

&&&

By third year, Draco’s distaste for Potter and his friends had grown to jealousy. If Harry Potter wanted nothing to do with him, that was fine. But why did the rest of the world love him so much? His own father seemed to pay Potter more attention than himself. His longing revealed itself through hate.

&&&

When Potter was picked for the Triwizard Tournament, his first emotion was fear. He’d hated Potter, sure, but he didn’t want him to die. And a fourteen year old in a completion like that was bound to end bloody.

Rumors began flying that Potter had somehow tricked the Goblet into allowing him to enter. Draco knew it was a lie. He may have disliked Potter but he knew him better than that. The boy would’ve never blatantly gone against Dumbledore’s orders.

But he couldn’t tell Potter he believed him, not when they’d built up such a rivalry thus far. Malfoy’s were built on pride, and not even Saint Potter was worth his dignity.

So, instead, he crafted Potter Stinks badges and handed them to the entire school. He knew he was being an arse, but he couldn’t stop himself. His obsession was far too deep.

And then Weasley of all people admitted that he didn’t believe his own best friend, and Draco was fuming at the betrayal. Because he wouldn’t never done that to him. He would’ve been loyal through and through, from the second he took his hand on the train.

But that’s not what happened. And Weasley still won. And would always win. With his happy family, and his hand-me-down robes... why was he suddenly jealous of the Weasel?

He wouldn’t ever mention that to anyone. Never.

&&&

When Umbridge took reign of Hogwarts, Draco had a rather lengthy speech given to him by his father about how “impressions are everything.” He was instructed to remain on her good side, regardless of the price.

This was the same year that Lucius Malfoy revealed his loyalty to The Dark Lord to his son. Draco, to put it simply, was terrified. He’d known his father’s values from the get go, was fully aware of his feelings on muggle-borns. Which is why he couldn’t figure out why the news had floored him to the point of tears, alone in his bedroom that night.

He didn’t want to follow the Dark Lord. He didn’t want to be a pawn in someone else’s game. He wanted to make his own decisions, and yet... that had already been stolen from him.

He knew that Potter wasn’t lying about the Dark Lord’s return, but he kept his mouth shut while the press beraded him. Even his own house mates turned their back on him; it was disgusting. Second rate friendships at best. Draco would’ve never... he couldn’t finish the thought.

The truth was, he’d always wanted Potter. There was no denying it. And now, with his only option to follow in his father’s footsteps... he’d never have him. There was no choice.

Draco cried himself to sleep that night.

&&&

Sixth year was no better.

Now the whole world believed what Draco had known from the start: that Potter wasn’t lying.

Voldemort’s return was widespread. The ministry was under fire. And Draco was forced into a role that he’d never asked for.

“You are going to kill Albus Dumbledore.” 

Voldemort had spoken the words himself, in the foyer of Malfoy manor. He was repulsed by the snake-like manner of his body; the red of his eyes was horrifying. Draco wanted no part of this.

And yet, his life depended on it.

He hated Potter that year. Hated him because in being the Chosen One, he had help. He had an entire Order of people protecting him. He never had to be alone.

Draco, meanwhile, was drowning. He hated his life. He hated the pressure of being the Dark Lord’s own personal Chosen One. And the worst part was that nobody knew. None of his housemates knew he hated himself. He harbored the secrets of suicidal thoughts daily. He wanted nothing more than to win- to rebel against all he’d been chosen for. To let Dumbledore live. To be his own person. To make a stand.

What better way to do that than to end it all? He contemplated this on several occasions, ready to Avada Kedavra himself into oblivion. Something kept him from doing so, however. A small voice, his conscience, perhaps the portion of him that almost made it to Gryffindor - kept stopping him. Because an energy that resonated deep within his being wanted to see Voldemort fall. He wanted to watch Harry defeat him. He wanted to... to help.

He made up his mind that day. From then on, he’d be nobody’s pawn. He was going to prosper, and not even the Dark Lord would stop him.

That was the year he faked his attempts to kill Dumbledore. That was the year he held his wand to the man, playing the role astutely. He never had any intention of ending his life, and it showed. It was all a part of Draco’s plan.

What came as a surprise to him was his Godfather’s undoing. When Snape killed the Headmaster, Draco was in shock. Instead of standing his ground, he followed.

He watched as the Death Eaters infiltrated the castle, hated himself as they set that poor Oaf’s hut on fire. This was bad. This was horrible. For a moment, he feared there was no escape.

&&&

He didn’t return to Hogwarts for seventh year. Instead, he lived in the Manor with a monster. He spent his moments plotting his revenge, waiting meticulously for the right moment to play his piece.

And then, a miracle happened.

Potter came to the manor, dragged by Greyback and some others. His face was distorted, no doubt the work of some type of spell. He may have fooled the others, but Draco knew Harry. Every detail. The curve of his jawline, the shape of his forehead, the way his brows set above his now swollen eyes.

“Well, Draco? Is it Harry Potter?” Yes, he thought. It is Potter. And Potter looks horrible. He needs my help. Why haven’t I been helping him?

He gazed into those eyes, the same shade of emerald they’d always been. And in that moment, he knew he’d found what he’d been waiting for.

“I-I can’t be sure,” he stated, but a slight smirk was tugging at his lips. Potter tilted his head, confused. He knew that Draco had figured out his identity, but he didn’t dare say a word.

Draco winked, subtly, but he knew that Harry had seen it.

When Bellatrix showed an interest in Hermione, he volunteered to drag the traitors to the dungeons.

After receiving an earful from Weasley, they made it to the depths of Malfoy Manor. Where no one could hear the poor souls being tortured, let alone a conversation.

“I’m going to get you all out of here,” he’d said as he released Ollivander and Lovegood from the cell. “Even Hermione.”

“Since when do you care about Hermione? We can’t trust you!” Ron yelled, but Harry put a hand up to silence him.

“He’s not lying, Ron.”

Had Draco been that transparent all along? Or was it only obvious... to Harry?

They formulated the plan for their escape, ambushed the Death Eaters in the living room. Saved Hermione from her own screams, inflicted by the Cruciatus curse. They battled skillfully, and Harry never left Draco’s side.

The expression on Lucius Malfoy’s face was both shocked and disgusted.

“Somebody call the Dark Lord!” He demanded. “My son is a traitor!”

But at that moment, Dobby intervened. Draco had always loved Dobby, though he wasn’t supposed to. (“House elves are not pets, Draco. Only servants.”) it was nice to see a friendly face arriving in the nick of time, and Draco wasn’t sure where they were apparating to, but he held tight to Potter for good measure.

&&&

When Harry had to go to the Forest, Draco was beside himself. This being, this person who had suddenly meant so much to him was about to be gone forever.

Harry had become a symbol, a beacon for Draco that represented everything he stood for. Everything his father had almost stolen from him.

He pulled him into an embrace, tears coating dusty cheeks.

“I’m sorry things weren’t better between us sooner,” Harry admitted, his own tears running subtly down his face.

“Me, too, Harry. Me too.”

He wished he could’ve gone back. He wished he could’ve begged the sorting hat for Gryffindor. He wished he could’ve spent the past seven years with Potter.

He wished he didn’t have to watch him leave.

And then, he was out of sight, and Draco returned to battle.

&&&

When Harry Potter broke free from Hagrid’s arms, a lifeless creature beaming with sudden veracity, Draco choked. Quite literally.

But before he could react any further, he was already tossing his wand to the boy. “Potter! Here!” He called, and Harry caught it mid-air with a beaming grin.

All at once, chaos ensued. Death Eaters we’re running because Harry Potter was once more the Boy Who Lived. Voldemort was chasing him. And Draco was suddenly giddy and featherlight with determination.

&&&

When Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord, Draco was the first to pull him into an embrace. “You’re back,” he cried, and Harry held onto him tighter.

“Your mother saved me.” The words were a whisper, and Draco felt his stomach lurch. His mother. Narcissa Malfoy still loved her son, even after his betrayal. In that moment, he felt nothing else could go right in the world.

&&&

After the war, Lucius Malfoy was imprisoned. Draco was granted a reprieve, thanks to an honest testimony from Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“He saved us,” they stated, and he never thought he’d hear the words “Thank Merlin Malfoy was there” Come from Ron Weasley’s mouth.

Wordlessly, Harry and Draco had become inseparable. It was understood that he wouldn’t want to go back to Malfoy Manor and somehow Grimmauld Place had become more like home anyway. His mother visited often, bringing sweet treats and trinkets from the city.

&&&

The day Harry kissed Malfoy was one he would savor endlessly. They were on the couch, watching some muggle sitcom that Harry enjoyed far too much. His face lit up at each joke, and Draco smiled at his reactions.

When the couple on the show kissed, apparently Harry thought they should, too. His lips were soft, and pleading, and everything Draco wanted to spend the rest of his life standing for.

There were slight changes between them, like sharing a bed and kisses in between apparating. But for the most part, things for the two boys remained happily the same.

&&&

The day they were married, Harry proposed a toast to his new husband. For his “undeniable courage against everything that threatened to destroy him during the war,” along with his “heart that is bigger than he will ever let on,” and his “dedication to what he believes is right, for all of the right reasons.” Ron, Hermione, Pansy, and Blaise were among the loudest of the applause. Draco was crying (from the onions in the hor d'oeuvres, of course).

Something about the way the words fell from Harry’s tongue, so effortlessly... he truly meant them. And it was evident that, deep down, Draco was always the person he’d loved. The same strong, brave, determined, ambitious almost-Gryffindor he still was.

And that would never change.

 

Fin.


End file.
